


100 Strokes

by lalejandra



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-23
Updated: 2005-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-14 08:59:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16037198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/pseuds/lalejandra





	100 Strokes

Francesca tugged the brush through her hair. Darn her hair! Darn it. She was going to cut it, short, as short as she could -- screw her dad if he didn't dig girls with long hair. He could -- he could sit on it.

"Heya, Frannie." Ray slipped into her room.

"Don't you know how to knock?" Francesca glared at him and tugged the brush through her hair again. Forty strokes. Forty-one.

"Nah," he said.

"Well, learn," she said as frostily as possible.

He sat down behind her on the bed and she slid toward him. "Aw, Frannie."

"Don't call me that. I am _Francesca_."

"Uh-huh." Ray slid his hand over hers and took the brush. "What're you on?"

"Forty-two," she said reluctantly. Ray's hands slid into her hair, and he began to brush.

"Forty-three," he said. He started at the bottom of each section, which she never had the patience to do, and he went slowly, which she never had the patience to do, and the hand he used to hold each lock of hair was hot against her back, through her nightgown.

"You were with _her_ , weren't you," said Francesca.

"I was with a lady friend, yes."

"A lady friend." Francesca snorted, and crossed her legs Indian style. She pushed into the bed and leaned forward, making Ray pull on her hair a little more. "You're sixteen, pal, she ain't no lady."

"Hey." Ray jerked on her hair. "Be nice."

"Nothing can ever happen," Francesca said.

"Oh, like you're so likely to be Mrs. Johnny Vittone?"

"Shut up about Johnny Vittone!" she said furiously. "You just shut up, Raimundo!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you can give it but you can't take it." He jerked on her hair again, pulling her head toward him. She rested her head against his chest and blinked up at him. She could see all his nose hairs.

"Don't be a jerk."

He kissed the top of her head. "Don't be an idiot."

"You can't date Irene Zuko." Francesca sat up. Ray's fingers ran through her hair, down her back, and she shivered, pushed a fist into her stomach and held it there.

"Maybe I ain't dating her," said Ray, and began to brush her hair again.

"Then maybe she really ain't a lady," said Francesca, and then shut up, because she didn't want Ray to stop brushing her hair.


End file.
